


All Star

by NorthernSerpent



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, parentdale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2020-12-28 19:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthernSerpent/pseuds/NorthernSerpent
Summary: Alice S Cooper has spent her entire adult life building her media empire around her wholesome image. FP is a former one-hit wonder from the 90s who faded into obscurity. Only now, much to Alice's annoyance, he's making a comeback.A Falice Hollywood AU.Previously known as "Take me by the Heart."





	1. Take On Me

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for quite some time, and I've decided I am finally post some of it. Thank you to everyone who has listened to me plot this baby out. 
> 
> Make sure to subscribe so you don't miss any of my sporadic updates!
> 
> Any and all accompanying graphics are by CelineCooperJones.
> 
> PS. I am really embracing the AUness of this fic. Just ignore everything from the show.

Most of the time Alice S. Cooper's life felt utterly absurd. One would think she would be used to it after 20-odd years of living on red carpets and interviewing celebrities.

Yet time hadn't made it any less surreal. She still felt like she was walking through a dream—one where her face was splattered on the sides of buses, her voice playing on every other radio station. She had a long list of endorsements, movie cameos, and more google hits and twitter followers than the Other (initial-less) Alice Cooper.

Years ago she would have been amongst the flashing lights beyond the red carpet, trying to catch an actor's attention for that money-making shot. She spent years hosting singing competition shows in the evenings and many mornings counting down the hits.

Now, Alice waited for the celebrity wranglers to bring their clients to her own eponymous talk show. These people were always so eager to be interviewed by her, to have her light refract onto them for a brief moment. 

It was the perfect arrangement. She got the glamour, connections, the paycheque and none of the scrutiny.

That is until her weasel husband shacked up with Penelope Blossom, momager extraordinaire. Suddenly those who Alice turned to for information turned on her, hounded her at every possible opportunity for a statement on her marriage's demise.

On the bright side, if the email in front of her was to be believed, her ratings increased when the scandal broke six months ago. Scrolling through her emails, she supposed that it was worth the price of privacy.

A new email from Mary Andrews pinged on her phone announcing the upcoming line-up of guests that had been confirmed. Alice scrolled through it quickly; her heart stopped abruptly when her eyes fell onto the last name on her roster.

_FP Jones_.

She had heard murmurings that he was back in the business, but she hadn't really given it much thought. Just because he was filming in Vancouver didn't mean he was prepping for a comeback. He had been irrelevant for years.

*

"You booked FP Jones?" Alice demanded as she barged into her producer's office.

Mary looked up from her computer, eyebrow raised, unamused by Alice's harsh tone. "I did. Do you have a problem with that?" she said, calmly.

Alice blinked incredulously.

"He's a washed-up one-hit wonder!" she sputtered. "I know 90s nostalgia is strong, but there's got to be a better way to capitalize on it instead of relying on addicts who peeked when they were 17!"

"_Former_ addict," Mary quickly corrected, folding her hands neatly on the desk. "My husband is his manager; I've heard the rough cuts of the soundtrack. Alice, it's _really_ good. FP is about to have the comeback of the century."

"Please," Alice scoffed. "One movie is not a comeback."

"It is if it's a Lodge Production," Mary said pointedly. "Alice, this is his first interview in 20 years! He wrote most of the music, and Hermione Lodge must have seen something in him if she cast him in the movie. Why aren't you all over this?"

Alice clenched her jaw. Was it too petty to say that she just didn't want to do it?

"FP and I go way back…" she eventually confessed with a sigh. "We grew up in the same small town, Riverdale… have you heard of it?"

Mary shook her head.

"I don't blame you. It's a one-restaurant kind of town. I couldn't wait to get out," Alice said bitterly.

"So you grew up in a crappy town. So did I. What's your point?"

Alice hesitated. "We didn't part on the best of terms."

"That's it?" Mary blinked. "I thought it was something serious. Alice, this is Hollywood. We all have ghosts."

"He's a jerk!"

"So is Hiram Lodge and you get along with him just fine."

Alice cringed. Hiram Lodge was one of the most unauthentic people she had ever had the misfortune of calling a friend. But he was among Hollywood's elite. His entire net-worth was more than some countries' GDPs. Alice knew that she had to stay on his good side to survive in this town.

"This isn't the same thing, Mary."

Mary cocked an eyebrow, her judgemental gaze boring into Alice's soul. "So I am hearing is that you have too much baggage with FP to do your job professionally. Is that the case? "

"How dare you suggest that I could be anything but professional!" Alice bristled. "You know I'm more than capable of conducting this interview."

She turned on her heel and stomped out of Mary's office. If he was going to appear out the woodwork, she sure as hell would make him squirm.

*

The promotional merry-go-round Fred booked out was… ambitious, though FP was assured this was par for the course in this line of work. FP had spent the better part of the last few months living in and out of hotel suites that were bigger than the double-wide he once called home.

He was a one-hit-wonder-turned-construction-worker-turned-movie-star. It was strange to think of how much things had changed.

Six years ago he stumbled in from the bar to find his wife and kids had packed up. The only trace that there had ever been anybody else living there was a yellow sticky note on the fridge.

Five years ago he started going to AA meetings in the Church basement. He started finding better coping mechanisms, found his way back to music and picked up his dusty guitar.

Four years ago, he had a decent selection of original songs floating on the internet and he didn't think anybody other than his kids would ever hear them.

Three years ago he was answering a call from Fred Andrews. Two years ago he was trading production notes with Hermione Lodge.And one year ago, he was on set in Vancouver with a camera in his face because Hermione had decided nobody else was suited for the role of Sheriff.

Hermione's labour of love was set to be released in cinemas in just a few short weeks. Early screenings had garnered critical praise, and "Our Own", the first single to drop, was steadily heading towards the charts. It was the reason why FP waited in the green room to be reintroduced to Alice S. Cooper.

The truth was Fred Andrews didn't need to do a whole love of convincing. He was the one who plucked FP out of obscurity, who fought tooth and nail to have him included in actress-turned-producer Hermione Lodge's newest project.

All because Fred believed in the music. Because he believed in FP Jones.

Stupid talk shows were just a way to guarantee a viral video and FP would have rathered be doing anything else than contributing to the pandering. But he, more than anyone, knew that this was fleeting. So he prepared himself to perform like a monkey and to crack jokes with Ellen later in the week because for the first time in his adult life he could go to the dentist without feeling bad about it.

FP owed Fred everything.

The first time he was famous he blew all his cash on booze and fizzle rocks. This time around he was saving it for his kids. Jughead was in his junior year of high school and who knew? He might want to go to college or put a downpayment on a house one day. Jellybean still had some time—she was only 11—but the guy at the bank said that it's never too early to start investing.

FP would never be able to make up for the bedtime stories he never read, or the Christmas plays he never saw. But he sure as hell would give them a safety net in case they ever needed it.

Three precise knocks pulled him out of his thoughts. Alice stood in the threshold, looking just as good in person as she did on his crappy tv.

"My, my… FP Jones," she smiled tightly. "Who would have thought that this is how we would meet again?"

"It's good to see you too, Alice."

She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her baby blue blazer. "Save it for the cameras, FP."

"Hey, I'm just here to talk about the movie," he protested.

"You better keep it that way," she turned on her heel, and not for the first time in her life, she walked away from hi

*

The day of FP's dreaded interview had snuck up on Alice. Between photo shoots, events, and divorce court proceedings, she hadn't really given it much thought. He was just another pretty face desperate for the limelight.

She smiled widely as she introduced her newest guest to the audience. At her cue, the chorus from his horrible song started to play. The audience immediately went wild.

_Ripped blue jeans. _

_Long blonde hair. _

_She's got the flute. _

_She'll take me there! _

_Wanna strike. _

_Venom in my bite. _

_But she's got me under her spell. _

_Yeah. _

_She's a **snake charmer. **_

FP hung his head down and ran his fingers through his gelled up hair. He was hating this.

_Good_.

"Welcome to the show, FP," Alice greeted in her best obnoxiously peppy presenter voice.

"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Al?" he grinned as he settled into his seat.

"Yes, it has," she agreed curtly. Almost 25 years in fact, but the audience didn't need to know that. "It's been a long five minutes since I saw you backstage."

He chuckled. The nerve of that man. "You look good, Alice. How've you been?"

She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his rookie attempt to derail her interview.

"We're here to talk about you, not me!" she responded cheerfully. "You're appearing in Hermione Lodge's directorial debut SoDale which is a musical...about a correctional facility?"

The audience sniggered.

"Come on Alice, nobody is going to see it if you put it like that!" he protested. "It's more of a political thriller... that happens to involve some singing."

Alice nodded her head, feigning interest. "Tell me more."

"Joaquin de Santos plays this kid from the wrong side of the tracks and I'm the town Sheriff with nefarious motives that put him away... And that's all I can say without the Lodges' legal team showing up at my door."

The audience laughed.

"Play the clip!" Alice commanded.

She, along with the audience, watched a 30-second clip of FP interrogating Joaquim. It gave away nothing, only serving to encourage everybody to buy a ticket to see the rest. He was… good. Not that it was surprising—he did star in their high school production of_ Bye Bye Birdie_.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed FP squirming in his seat and for a brief moment, she saw him as he was decades ago—a restless teenager who always had a stick of gum in his mouth, who could not sit still during class, who was always on the move.

The moment ended as soon as the clip did. Alice was back on. Pushing any invasive thoughts, she was determined to be professional.

"How does it feel to have this renewed interest in your career?" She knew full well that she was putting him on the spot. Perhaps it was a bit unfair, but FP recovered quickly and any guilt she might have held soon dissipated.

"Amazing. I still can't believe it," he ran a flustered hand through his hair, a move she was once very well acquainted with. "It's crazy how much things have changed while others stay the same."

"Well, I wish you luck with the movie. I'm looking forward to seeing it in theatres," Alice beamed, perhaps a little too brightly.

"Thanks, Alice. That means a lot."

She ignored him and turned to the camera. "SoDale will be out in theatres next Friday! Be sure to check it out!"

The audience clapped.

Later Mary would glance up from her clipboard and say. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

And Alice would lie and say, "Not at all."


	2. Sugar, Sugar

Fred Andrews was one of the few genuine people left in Hollywood. Playful, sociable, and loyal, he was basically the human equivalent of a puppy dog.

Fred's Hollywood life made zero sense to FP. The man would have been much better suited to living in a small town like Riverdale than in this fishbowl. Fred had been doing this for decades and he showed no signs of stopping.

"How do you do it?" FP asked over lunch. While it was hard to coordinate with FP never being in one place for too long, they always made a point of meeting up when they were in the same city.

Fred swallowed his salad and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Do what?"

"This!" FP gestured wildly. "You're doggy-paddling amongst sharks!"

Fred chuckled. "Do you have an animal metaphor for every occasion?"

"Yes," FP deadpanned. "How do you put up with Hollywood types all day long? We're the worst. You could have pursued your own music career. Or you could have done something totally different… like work construction like I did."

"I don't like being the centre of attention," Fred shrugged. "The music business wasn't for me, but it is for someone else. It's my job to help others—like you and my boy Archie—to bring their passion into the world."

"Freddie, my man, you should have been my high school guidance counselor. You would have saved me years of heartache."

Fred merely chuckled before changing the subject. "So, since you're in town for the week, are you going to the Lodge's Halloween Party?"

"Do you really think Hermione would take no for an answer?"

*

And that is how FP ended up in a mansion in Calabasas on Halloween night.

"FP! You made it!" Hermione floated towards him with a cocktail glass in hand. Dressed in black, hair pin-straight and eyes smokier than usual, FP knew immediately who she was supposed to be.

"Hello, Morticia," grinned FP as she hugged him briefly. Across the room, her husband, Hiram, was donning a mustache and her ingénue daughter was sporting two long braids. Apparently, the Lodge Family had transformed into the Addams Family for the night.

FP had opted to be a dashing vigilante. Zorro came to life in a signature all-black costume including a cape, a sombrero cordobés, and a mask covering the upper half of his face.

"Looking quite dashing yourself, Mr de la Vega," complimented Hermione, her bright smile contrasting with the sullen mood of her costume. She immediately jumped into her welcome spiel, pointing him to the candy bar and telling him to have fun before being whisked away to entertain her other guests. He briefly caught a glimpse of Joaquin mingling with Veronica and the rest of the under-25 crowd.

FP saw Alice the second she walked into the house. It was hard not to with those tight black leggings, an off-shoulder shirt, red pumps and blonde hair teased to the max. He barely registered the two Frozen characters who arrived alongside her version of Sandra Dee.

She met his gaze and strut toward him, reaching around him to grab a candy bar from the table.

Alice eyed the glass in his hand. "Sure that's a good idea, stud?"

She was still hot. Too bad she was a stick in the mud.

"It's non-alcoholic," FP pointed to the sign. "I've been sober for almost 5 years. One party isn't going to ruin that."

Her eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms firmly. "I'm surprised you made time to come to this shindig. I thought you'd have jumped on a plane the first chance you got. It's not like you to stick around."

"It takes one to know one," he shrugged. "If I'm recalling this correctly, you also moved away. Or have you forgotten where you came from?"

Like the pocketknife she once carried, his words were a weapon meant to cut. FP knew precisely where to strike, what it would take to make her bleed. His words were an echo of a promise made in another time, another place.

Naïve promises had been made a lifetime ago, between friends verging on something more. FP had looped his arms around her and let her cry into his chest. It was unsurprising that he had won the singing competition—she had always known he was good.

The record deal, dropping out halfway through junior year to pursue his budding music career… that was more surprising. But what truly caught her off guard was how much it hurt to be happy for him.

"Promise me, FP… promise me that you won't forget where you came from."

_Promise me you won't forget about me._

Foolishly, she had believed him and branded her trust on her skin. A snake wrapped its way around her upper thigh, just as another did along his side. Underneath, in small black typescript, were nine little letters.

_Southside._

Things had changed since then. Alice knew it, and she knew that FP knew it too.

Alice took a bold step towards him, eyes flashing dangerously. The air around her was electric.

"Shut up," she seethed, too angry to care about her weak comeback.

"You know, it's not a secret that we grew up in the same small town," FP refused to back down under her withering gaze. "Maybe they'll even find our old high school yearbook photos."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Would that be so bad?" he searched her eyes as though he still knew her. "What are you so afraid of, Alice?"

"I've worked too hard to build my image for a washed-up rocker from the 90s to ruin it for me," she responded viciously. "Don't test me, FP. You don't want to see what I'm capable of."

*

This wasn't Alice's first rodeo.

She had been in attendance at the annual Lodge Halloween Party since her early 20s, back when she first met Hal Cooper. Before the turn of the millennium, Alice was virtually unknown while Hal was revered for writing and directing The Black Hood, a psychological thriller that earned him his first and only Oscar nod.

That first year, their matching jigsaw puzzle costumes loudly confirmed the rumours that they were, in fact, an item. Now, for the first time in twenty years, she didn't have a Danny Zuko to complete her look. Instead, her former partner－in costumes and in life－walked through the front door with bunny ears on his head and a gorgeous ginger in a sparkling red dress on his arm. Suddenly Alice felt the need for some punch – the alcoholic kind.

She was bound to run into the couple sooner or later, but that didn't stop the pang of hurt at seeing her ex-husband with Penelope Blossom and her interpretation of Jessica Fucking Rabbit. Alice was surprised that they weren't being followed by paparazzi; swarms of cameras always seemed to be around whenever Hal and Penelope were together. 

Escaping onto the back deck seemed like the best course of action. It wasn't ideal, but it was definitely preferred than dealing with the other party-goer's pity and curiosity. Not to mention, Alice was not to be trusted to be in the same room as Hal and his new plaything. She did not want to be liable for any bricks that would be thrown that night. She couldn't let her daughters see her like that.

Finding a break in the crowd, Alice fled the party and snuck out the back door. Taking a deep breath of the crisp night air, she willed her heart to stop hurting.

_ One. Two. Three. Four. Five. _

Her breath seemed to stutter in her lungs before she let it go, feeling the tension drain from her body.

_ Five. Four. Three. Two. One. _

Her breathing steadied and she opened her eyes with fierce determination. She could do this. She could be in the same building as Hal and not burn it to the ground. She turned back to the door and found that it was locked.

"Shit!" she cursed. In a brief moment of desperation, she considered trying to pick the lock with her hairpin but decided it might be easier to go back around the mansion than to try to tame her hair again.

She took two steps down the stairs when she heard the door open, releasing the music from the house and into the outside world. Whipping around, she saw FP nudging the door shut.

"No! Don't!" she cried, but it was too late. "Good job, FP. We're locked out, you dumbass."

He pushed up his Zorro mask onto his head and raised his eyebrows pointedly at her.

"You got locked out first," he said smugly. "What are you even doing out here? What happened to the girl who had to be dragged off the dancefloor?"

Alice threw him a dirty look. She was not the same girl that FP knew back in Riverdale. She was not the girl who set fire to a dumpster, the hellraiser who took the school van on a joyride.

She was not the lost girl who couldn't imagine having a life beyond the boundaries of Southside Trailer Park.

"She grew up."

"That's too bad. She was fun," FP shrugged. "Can't you just pick the lock?"

"No," Alice glared. She refused to give FP the satisfaction of knowing she briefly considered it. She took a deliberate step down the stairs. "We'll have to go around."

She didn't bother to invite him along. She vaguely registered FP following her down the steps and she felt a shiver run down her spine. It was because of the chilly breeze and had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was dark and secluded and FP was behind her.

"You cold?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she responded over her shoulder. He shrugged off his cape. "I told you I'm fine," she snapped.

Despite her protests, he wrapped it around her shoulders. "Liar."

Suddenly, Alice was sixteen again, sneaking out of the junior prom with FP's letterman jacket draped over the dress she spent months saving up to buy.

"Thanks," she found herself stammering. It was the polite thing to say. She wasn't a barbarian.

"No problem."

They didn't exchange any other words until they rounded back to the line of cars. Walking in silence alongside FP like that should have been awkward, and somehow it wasn't. Maybe it was the confidence from the costumes that tricked Alice into thinking that they were other people because for the first time in a long time she could just be.

A lot changed in twenty-five years. She was different. Could he really be different too?

"This is me," she said when they reach her car. "I'm just going to call it a night. My girls are staying over and I've got to work in the morning."

Alice moved to untie his cape, determined to untangle herself from it, to untangle herself from him. FP reached for her hand, his fingers curling over hers, sending a quiet tingle through her. His hands were rougher than she remembered, calloused from a lifetime of working them raw.

"Keep it," he murmured. "It gives me a reason to see you again."

"What makes you think you'll see me again?"

"I can hope, can't I?"

Alice couldn't help but think that it was so very _high school_ when FP pulled away and let her go, leaving her breathless like he did every time they came upon a moment like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new year's resolution is to finish this.


	3. Tainted Love

In the weeks following Halloween, Alice tried to push FP out of her mind. It proved to be an impossible task with his presence haunting her wherever she went. His face was splattered all over the gigantic flatscreens at her gym, a GQ magazine cover taunted her at the grocery store checkout, and FP's melodic voice infiltrated her car's speakers following the release of the annoyingly successful SoDale movie soundtrack.

He even weaselled his way into her work.

She rolled her eyes at the script in front of her and was thankful her listeners couldn't see

"I'm Alice S. Cooper in for Ryan Seacrest, and you're listening to America's Top 40 Countdown. Stay tuned for some Josie and the Pussycats and some more FP Jones!"

Alice could fake enthusiasm like nobody else.

The red "ON AIR" sign switched off as they went to a commercial break, and Alice sighed as she pulled off her headphones. If she had to hear FP sing "we take care of our own" one more time she was going to scream.

A sharp knock on the door made her look up. To her surprise, Sierra McCoy, her publicist, stood in the doorway.

"What happened?" Alice immediately cut to the chase.

Something was wrong. Sierra made a point of never stopping by unannounced.

"Listen, Alice," Sierra began, "you're going to find out about it sooner or later. I was in the building when the news broke, and I figured it would be best if you heard it from me."

"What news? Just spit it out already." 

Alice didn't have time for this diplomacy. The minutes were ticking by, and she would be due back on air in a moment.

"TMZ published a copy of what appears to be your mugshot," Sierra turned her phone towards Alice.

Sure enough, there it was. A grainy black and white picture of Teenage Alice from the waist up, with long, enviable curls tumbling down her shoulders as she held the identification plaque.

Alice stared blankly at the offending picture. She was so sure that she had every copy of that picture destroyed.

"How… how did they get this?"

"You're telling me this is legit?" Sierra rubbed her temples. "God, I was hoping this was an outstanding photoshopping job. You never told me you were arrested!"

"It was over 25 years ago! I was 16! It wasn't relevant!" protested Alice.

She had buried her teenage regrets years ago. Why were they resurfacing? Who would dare to dig them up now?

"I'll do my best to contain this," Sierra sighed. "The good news is that it's not recent and from before you got in the biz. The novelty of your practically perfect image being sullied will blow over in no time. If Martha Stewart can bounce back, so can you."

Alice feigned a migraine to get out of her other commitments, leaving a spot open for Penelope Blossom to take over in the afternoon. The vile women had made it clear that she was more than eager to have her leftovers.

She flew through the hallways, glaring at the interns who were attached to their phones; they didn't even have the decency to pretend that they weren't sharing her greatest shame with a simple tap.

The paparazzi were already swarming outside.

_ Vultures. _

They had always been a part of her reality, but never to this extent. She made a point of living a scandal-free life and never giving them anything to exploit. Even when Hal left her, the paparazzi left her mostly alone, choosing to follow Penelope and Hal instead.

Penelope had been a tabloid darling for years, feeding the leches with glimpses into her Cinderella story. An orphan who was chosen by self-proclaimed billionaires… She had nothing until she was given everything. 

Then an ex-boyfriend was found dead. A few years later, her beloved husband, Clifford, followed suit. If TMZ was to be believed, Cliffords's body wasn't even in the ground before she found a new love in the shape of Hal Cooper. 

TMZ was quick to point out the awkward timing and the fact that they were third cousins. 

"We're not blood relatives!" he had protested. "She was adopted! Even if she wasn't, we're so distantly related that it doesn't even matter."

Of course it mattered. It mattered a great deal to the tabloids and the paparazzi–the very same vultures who now hounded Alice through the parking lot. 

Clenching her phone in one hand, and her designer handbag in the other, Alice shielded herself from the bright flashes as she navigated her way to her car. As she reached her temporary sanctuary, her phone buzzed violently. She quickly glanced at the screen and noticed her eldest daughter's text message appearing across the screen. 

_ FYI, Jason and I have a project, so I'm staying over at dad's. _

With a strangled sob, Alice tossed her phone into the back seat. She slammed her foot on the gas and sped out of the lot.

It was her week, damn it.

*

As soon as he entered his hotel room, FP kicked off his shoes and beelined to Pembroke Hotel's Queen-sized hotel bed, collapsing face-first onto a mountain of pillows.

_ Finally. _

He had thought that once SoDale was released, he'd have his free time back. Instead, he was gallivanting across the continent, never spending more than a few days in one city. Currently, he was in New York, and in the last 24 hours, he had done four talk show interviews. Between the post-production, jetting around from hotel to hotel, he couldn't remember the last time he had a weekend to himself. All he wanted to do was sleep until the end of time.

But the universe had something else in mind. A sharp ringing from his phone startled him awake.

"What?" he growled, not bothering to check the caller ID.

"Why did you do it, FP?" a woman's voice dripping with venom greeted him. "Did you think it would be funny to ruin my life? Everybody hates me, and it's your fault."

"What are you talking about? Who is this?"

Her laugh was hollow. "We used to talk on the phone for hours. Don't tell me you forgot what I sound like."

"Alice?" His eyebrows jumped to his hairline. "How did you-?"

"Fred gave me your number."

He was trying his best to wrap his exhausted brain around this bizarre conversation. "But...How do you know Fred?"

"He's my neighbour, I work with his wife. It's a small town," she said impatiently. "Are you done interrogating me? I'm the one who wants answers."

FP rolled over onto his back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alice, I have no idea what you think I did, but I'm pretty sure I didn't do it."

"I know you, FP. You're a sentimental hoarder. You probably kept my mugshot as some sick memento, waiting for the perfect moment to leak it to the press."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I just think it's a funny coincidence that you strolled into town and my mugshot somehow ended up on the front page of Reddit."

"What the big deal? It's just an old picture."

"Don't act dumb. I know it was you," she snapped.

"Do you hear yourself right now? What could I possibly get from releasing your mugshot? Believe it or not, Princess, my world doesn't revolve around you."

"Yeah, well… fuck you."

"What a clever comeback. Don't tell me you're losing your edge?"

"Shut up. I'm just as edgy as ever."

FP frowned. He recognized the slight waver in her voice. He couldn't imagine that she still slung back tequila shots without a lime to chase. She probably had an actual, proper cellar full of $400 wine—the days of sharing boxed wine were long behind them. "Exactly how drunk are you right now?"

"Not drunk enough to deal with this conversation."

He glanced at the clock and did some quick mental calculations. If Alice was, in fact, in California, there was a three hour time difference between them. Which meant that she started her night very very early. FP could have made fun of her, made a crack of the tables turning, but Alice S. Cooper went out of her way to look him up.

"Then why'd you call me?"

It should have been a simple question with a simple answer. After FP moved from Riverdale (the first time) to pursue his music, he hadn't heard a peep from her. Clearly, alcohol had something to do with it, but it wasn't everything. Alice had been drunk before, and she had never gone to such lengths to yell at him.

"FP, you are the only person still on this planet who remembers what happened that night."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration building. "You do remember it was printed in the town paper, right? It's in the public domain."

"I had them all destroyed!"

"Obviously you missed one!"

"Well, who else could have possibly leaked it?" she said defiantly.

"I don't know! Your hairstylist? Your third cousin twice removed?" he listed. "Your Bel-Air castle can't protect you from the fact that there are a lot of people in this world who just don't like you."

"It takes one to know one—isn't that what you told me?" she spat. "I hope you got a hefty compensation for spreading my shame in the tabloids. Lord knows you need the money to continue single-handedly supporting the economy of Tijuana."

Her harsh words stoked the fire inside of him, and his anger came like an impossible build up steam, burning him on the way out, and burning Alice on the receiving end.

"Maybe they want to make a quick buck because life is hard. Or did you forget what that's like?"

"I swear to God, FP—"

"Lining your pockets with ketchup packets from Pop's, selling dime bags of weed at football games…"

"—I'm warning you—"

"…pretending you're lactose intolerant…"

"—Shut up or—

"…because you couldn't afford a milkshake."

Alice finally snapped. "FP, I will end your comeback before it's even begun."

"And how exactly will you do that?" he growled. "Here's the thing, Alice. Unlike you, I'm not ashamed. I embrace my past."

"No, FP," she sneered. "You're still living in it."

Before he could retort with a sharp reply, she disconnected the call. The dial tone hummed in his ear, an infuriating reminder that this time Alice got the last word.

* * *

Princess Ethylene  
@PrincessEhtylene

lol I always knew she was a hack

TMZ✔@officialTMZ

#BREAKING Alice S Cooper's secret past EXPOSED!

  


❤ 5.8M 10:20 AM • 

42.4k people are talking about this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitter work skin by @gadaursan.


	4. Bad Day

According to Jughead, the mugshot was everywhere—Instagram, Twitter, Reddit, and all the other social media platforms FP did not understand. People were either greatly amused or deeply offended that Ms. Perfect had a record, but in the end, everybody could agree that she looked damn fine. Only Alice could make a mugshot look that good.

All the newfound interest in her youth led them straight to FP. He found himself on BuzzFeed lists called 10 celebs who went to high school together. He'd be lying if he claimed he wasn't incredibly amused as Alice hid from the world, unintentionally letting the fire consume her with every "no comment". Ridiculous theories spread like wildfire, his favourite being the National Enquirer article that alleged that they had a secret love child out in the world somewhere. Some people had quite the imagination.

He and Alice had never been anything more than friends. Although there was a time he would have been willing to see where things went, he only kissed her twice. The first time was when playing spin the bottle, the second was as he bid her goodbye before driving off to the city.

By the time he returned, Alice had been long gone. FP reluctantly remade his life in Riverdale when he could no longer ride his Snake Charmer royalties. It was only when her brilliant smile lit up his tv as she introduced hopeful singers to him and the rest of America, did FP know that she had gone to California as she had always planned.

It wasn't that he meant to keep tabs on her; it just sort of happened. Within a few years, Alice was everywhere. It was impossible to not stumble upon her when flipping channels or turning the dial on his radio.

But Alice S. Cooper was a stranger.

She wasn't the girl who broke into school alongside him to borrow instruments, the one who had zero tolerance for bullshit, the one whose anger burned like the heat of a thousand stars. But if their recent interactions were anything to go by, the fire was still there, embers buried somewhere under layers of thick ice.

*

Slowly and reluctantly, Alice opened her eyes. She greeted the sunshine with a grimace, the brightness burning her retinas. She squinted, ran her fuzzy tongue around her dry mouth. She rolled out of bed with a groan and stumbled to her bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face just to feel something other than the echoes of last night. Looking at herself in the mirror, she frowned at what she had been reduced to. The glamour and poise she emanated on tv had been stripped away, leaving her weathered face on display for the world to judge. With a sigh, she dabbed on some concealer before heading down the stairs to get water and painkillers.

Much to her surprise, Betty was curled up on the couch reading Agatha Christie, while Polly was by the large bay window, fluffing up her hair and taking selfies. Alice hadn't expected to find either of them at home that morning, especially when they both decided to spend the night at their father's. 

"Are you okay?" Betty leaned against the doorway and eyed her mother suspiciously.

Alice tossed back the pills.

"I'm fine, just a headache," she said, perhaps a little too defensively. Her nights of partying were long gone, and with it, her ability to avoid sustained hangovers. "I thought you'd be at your dad's."

Betty shot Polly a look over her shoulder. That was never a good sign.

"You should sit down," Betty said. "You're looking pretty green."

Alice glared and allowed her daughter to guide her to the living room and join Polly. "For the love of God, Elizabeth, tell me what's going on!"

"You know how the Blossoms have been vying to get their own reality show? Well,…they were picked up by E."

"You're kidding." It wasn't a question – more a statement confirming the fact that this was, in fact, some elaborate joke.

Polly jumped in. "Dad's going to be in it."

Alice sighed. He had always loved the attention. "Of course he is."

"We just need you to sign off on a release to let us appear as well," Polly added, quickly.

"Absolutely not!" Alice protested immediately. "Penelope Blossom can pimp out her own children all she wants, but hell will freeze over before I let her do the same with you two."

"Seriously mom?" Polly exclaimed. "You're making us turn down this opportunity?"

"An opportunity to be exploited?" Alice's mouth was agape. Betty watched wide-eyed as the voices around her continued to escalate. "Polly, do you hear yourself right now?

"It's not exploitation! It's exposure!" she replied indignantly. "You know how it works—it's your life! Your entire existence is basically one gigantic brand sponsorship!"

Betty, always the mediator, kept her voice calm and even as she tried to diffuse the situation. "We need to talk about this ratio—"

But it was too late. The match had already been struck.

"You think I enjoy having no job security?" Alice cried. "Things have been good, but they weren't always and I am constantly aware of the fact that it might not stay like this forever. Do you know how easy it is to fall onto the wrong side of public opinion?"

Polly was just a few months shy of adulthood, but she still acted like such a petulant child. Maybe it was Alice's fault for sending them to a school full of trust fund babies and kids who thought that the world would always bow down to them.

"This—" she waved her arms, gesturing vaguely around their mansion, "— isn't sustainable. One vicious rumour, one statement taken out of context… that's all it takes for our lives to go away," Alice continued. "I know I'm hard on you. I know I have high expectations, but I also know you are both so capable. You have so many opportunities I could only dream of.

"Polly—in less than a year, you'll be in college. And Betty—you'll be putting together your admission packages. Your future is so bright. Please don't throw it away."

Polly's eyes darted down, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

Alarm bells were ringing in Alice's head. "What is it?" she asked, not knowing if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Mom…" Polly hesitated. "I'm not applying to college this year."

"What?" Polly's words were like a punch to the gut. Alice tried to blink back the tears welling up in her eyes. "Why?"

"As you know, I hit 75,000 Instagram followers months ago, and I've been getting more and more offers for sponsorships and brand partnerships. I want to focus on building my brand, and college isn't going to help me get to where I want to be."

There was just too much to say and Alice didn't know how to say it or where to even start. Clearly Polly had made a decision—a stupid, short-sighted decision— to commit to being an influencer. And there didn't seem to be anything Alice could do to fix it.

So she threw up her hands—not in defeat, but in exasperation— and walked out the front door.

"Mom, wait!" Betty followed her outside. "Where are you going?"

"No idea!" she laughed maniacally as she paced her driveway. It wasn't like it mattered. Even when she had a plan, forces always conspired against her. She just needed to get out; as big as that house was, it was still suffocating.

Polly appeared in the doorway with bloodshot eyes and arms hugging herself tightly. "See, Betty? I told you she'd be mad."

Alice's shoulders slumped. While her daughters were frustrating, unpredictable teenagers, they were still her daughters and they were still just teenagers.

"I'm not mad," Alice reassured her. Polly rolled her eyes but it was the truth. "I'm just shocked…and disappointed."

"Like that's any better," muttered Polly under her breath.

Betty leaped to her sister's defence, striking a powerful blow. "You'd think you'd be more understanding given your record."

Alice tensed. "Don't you dare—"

"Can't we be a functional family for once and talk about what's really gotten you all riled up?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Alice said through gritted teeth. It was one thing to have the media turn on her. It was another thing entirely for her daughters to join them.

"We've seen the mugshot. We know it's why you were getting wine-drunk by yourself last night," Betty said.

"Elizabeth, you have no idea what you're talking about."

"You act all high and mighty like you're better than everyone, but really you're the worst kind of person there is—a hypocrite."

Alice felt the anger rise up to her cheeks. She pushed through it, just as she always had. "Don't take that tone with me, young lady!"

"Or what?" Polly joined in. "You'll send her to bootcamp like you sent me?"

"That's different," Alice said through clenched teeth.

"Is it though?" Polly challenged. Anger lurked behind her normally bright eyes. "I was gone for a month!"

"All because she wouldn't bend to your every whim," added Betty angrily.

"I did what I thought was right!" Alice snapped. Polly had been out of control—that was one of the few things she and Hal still agreed on. Sending Polly to a summer camp for troubled teens seemed like a good idea at the time. Alice remembered all too well where her own deviant attitude had led her when she was a teenager. "I don't need to explain myself to you."

"This is exactly why I hate staying here," Polly sighed, defeated. "What's it going to take for you to be honest? Secrets destroyed our family once before. When will things change?"

Alice didn't even hesitate. "Your father destroyed our family when he ran off with that half-melted ten-cent trollop!"

"No, mom—" Betty shook her head sadly. "—It's not just dad's fault. You both played a part."

Alice stared at her youngest daughter, aghast. How dare Betty presume to know anything about the inner workings of her marriage? Alice wasn't stupid and she wasn't naive. She knew that her marriage had been on the brink for a long time. Years of lies and things left unsaid piled dangerously like a house of cards teetering on the edge of destruction. But in the end, Alice wasn't the one who ran into the arms of Penelope Blossom when things got a little rough. Alice wasn't the one who_ gave up_.

"I have done everything to keep this family together," Alice hissed. "Yeah, I have a criminal record. I ran drugs; I stole a van; I did so many things because I was fighting every single day to get out of the Southside. I made mistakes because I had to survive— _not_ because I was bored and had nothing better to do."

Polly was bristling. "You have no idea what kind of pressure I'm under."

"Everyone is under pressure all the time! Do you see them doing lines of coke all over Snapchat?"

"I can't believe you're still bringing that up! It was one time and you reacted by sending me to bootcamp!"

"It was for your own—"

"Enough!" Betty cried desperately, cutting Alice off midsentence. "We're not getting anywhere. It's always the same fight over and over again…we can't keep doing this!

"Mom, I know it's hard, but Polly and I are growing up," Betty pleaded. "You've got to let us make our own decisions. You made your mistakes—please, mom—let us make ours."

"This isn't… this isn't what I wanted for you…" she paused, took a deep breath, rethinking her approach. Betty was right. They were going in circles. No matter what she did, her daughters were going to do whatever they wanted. Polly was just a few months shy of turning 18 and signing her own release forms and Betty was already itching to spread her wings and fly away from the nest. Alice only a little bit of time before she lost them adulthood.

"You may think you know how the world works, but you are both still children," Alice stated, crossing her arms and narrowing her steely gaze, daring her daughters to challenge her. "I can't in good conscious sign that form. You are underage and I am your mother. My decision is final."

At her declaration, Polly stormed off into the house in a huff, Betty following at her heels.

Alice had won that particular battle, but instead of feeling pleased with her victory, she felt hollow.


End file.
